


Down by the river

by summerof16



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love Story, Prophecies, Ragnarok, Reincarnation, Sifki Week, Sifki Week 2018, To quote 'ye be warned', dumbass life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 10:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerof16/pseuds/summerof16
Summary: All of Asgard is in uproar as the prince has been killed.Sif tracks down the man behind it all.





	Down by the river

**Author's Note:**

> Ok guys, so this is my offering for Sifki week. I don't have a tumblr so I can't tag it there.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fic. It's been inspired by all of the contributions I've seen to sifki week and all the beautiful people who take the time to write these stories.

He was exactly where she had expected him to be.

On the outskirts of Asgard’s citadel, a river meandered around its lush, green countryside. The farmers and labourers used the river for their tasks, from grinding flour to washing clothes, and even the flora and fauna thrived in the picturesque scene. The hills weaved gently through the landscape, scooping up the riverbed between its folds, and tenderly embracing the small waterfalls that fell between the plains.  It was a quiet land, not bustling like the city-proper, but lulling in its simple, sweet serenity.

Sif had come here many times before, on lazy eves with her prince, on days where the battle did not thrum through her veins, and his thirst for knowledge was momentarily quenched. They had come here many a time, to bask in the sun by the riverside, taking joy in each other’s company, telling tales of each other’s lives, whispering secrets that could not be told to others. They had swum together, dipping, tumbling and hurtling through the river in play and in passion, laughing and shivering in its cold caress. Even in the warm summer months, the river would remain cool to the touch.  It was the only place that gave Loki comfort in the sweltering heat. Apart from her presence, that was.

But on this day he did not seek her out.

No, this day he sought out none of them but was the one sought by all.

Indeed, on this day Loki had run.

The clouds were heavy in the skies, cloaking the entire realm in darkness, as fat raindrops cried upon the realm. The river’s surface turned white with millions of tiny ripples dancing with each other. Mud caked Sif's boots as she waded through the countryside, right to their little sanctuary, the place they had once loved as much as they had loved one another.

She knew from the way he angled his head ever so slightly to the side, resting his chin on his propped up knee, that he knew she had found him. Over the years his black hair grew long, curling around the nape of his neck, and caressing the slope of his shoulders, and today was no exception as the rain plastered it onto him. He looked so innocent and fragile in the loose tunic which clung to his slim frame. He did not seem like the madman who had committed the greatest of all crimes. He looked like the boy she had fallen for on that sunny summer’s eve.

But he was no longer that boy. This much she knew for sure.

“You found me,” he stated blankly, not turning to face her, instead opting to look out upon the vastness of the land that lay before him. The toes of his boots slid over the surface of the river as he tried to draw patterns in the moving flow.

 “Did you think I would not?” she said acidly, her stomping coming to a halt a few metres away from him. Fury was written plainly on her features as she drew her glaive and pointed it at his chest.

He pursed his lips, nonplussed, and picked away at a patch of fresh grass, prying it out of the softened soil it held onto for dear life.

“I did not think you would come alone,” he said eventually, turning to face her. There was no malice, no deception or darkness in his eyes, and that alone was enough to draw the breath from her lungs. She had expected a wicked smile, a fast tongue, or even tricks. She had envisioned a cold, hard glimmer of self-righteousness born of the jealousies he had nursed for so very long. She had wished to find a foreign darkness envelope him that could explain his crimes- the horror that was now awash in Asgard.

There was nothing.  His face was calm. Collected. She only found the quiet resignation she had seen so many times before. Defeat and acceptance.

“I do not need the presence of others to bring justice to a murderer.” Her eyes glinted like diamonds, hard and unbreakable in will and resolve. She stepped closer till her blade touched his chin, angling it up towards her. Her stomach twisted within her. _How could he sit so calmly, and be so composed in the wake of his misdeeds? Had the assessments of the other warriors being right after all?_

The corner of his lips quirked up ever so slightly, but there was no mirth in his eyes.

“I do not doubt your prowess, my Lady. Only a fool would not see this to be the truth,” he hummed, baring more of his pale neck to the blade. “But I confess I do not deem myself a murderer.”

She bared her teeth.

_The gall._

All had seen the truth, how he had manipulated the situation to his gain, how he had whispered into the assassin’s ear before the prince was felled, how he had taken his hatred out upon the only one that lit up the realm with his bright smile.

“You may deem yourself whatever you wish but you have brought the death of Thor upon us all, and all of Asgard shall suffer in his absence, merely because you were jealous of your little brother.”

“I am not _jealous_ ,” he seethed, as only a man truly caught in a tightening web of jealousy could do. His gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing with distaste as he pressed himself slightly more against the blade, til it drew blood. It mixed with the rain, and slid down his neck, staining the collar of his tunic.

“Then why else would you make Hödr kill your own flesh and blood?” She snarled, drawing away a little, and changing the pressure of the blade on his neck.

He worked his jaw with a brief flash of indignation, but that too disappeared quickly. The calm that settled on his features this time was not genuine. This time it was clearly a façade. She gritted her teeth.

“You murdered a child, Loki. Admit the truth and perhaps there will be hope for you yet.”

His eyes flashed.

“Just because he behaved like a helpless foal it does not make him one. He was twelve hundred years of age. That is not a child,” he spoke curtly.

“Is that how you could do it?” she growled. “Is that how you will calm your conscience of the misdeed? That he was old enough to be killed in cold blood? You who preaches so much about Odin’s ways and needless violence? What is this if not senseless bloodshed?”

He turned his head away again, ignoring the blade as if it were but a toy. The look of resignation returned to his features, and he sighed.

“His death was not senseless, Sif. But I suppose you would not believe me if I said I did it for his own well-being.” The corners of his lips turned downwards again and his eyes perused the widening ripples as the rains slowed a little.

She narrowed her eyes, jerking away ever so slightly at the strange proclamation.

“How is being killed outside of battle for his own well-being? He is not even afforded the halls of Valhalla through the cowardice of your actions,” she said regaining her composure.

“This is true,” Loki hummed, casting down his eyes. “But he shall be better off if he remains in Helheim for now.”

“For n- What is the meaning of this?” she asked, her brows pulling together. She lowered her weapon in bewilderment, stepping closer til he was but a foot away from her. “Is this part of some mischievous scheme of yours?”

Loki had concocted many mad schemes over the years, from cutting her hair and turning it black, to amusing a weeping giantess by battling a goat with his manhood on a string. But never, _never_ , had he killed another merely for a scheme.

“Sif,” he spoke softly, finally meeting her gaze. Tears pricked in his eyes. Tears of fear or tears of contrition, she could not tell. He reached for her hand, and in her confusion, she let him take it in his soft palms. He pressed his lips to her knuckles almost reverently as if they were in the middle of courting and were not just discussing his cold-blooded deeds. “My headstrong, beautiful, beloved Sif,” he sighed, before pressing his forehead to her knuckles. He held onto her fingertips. “Forgive me for what I have done,” he rasped softly, “And what I am about to do.”

“What you a-“

A long, slim dagger slashed through the back of her armour and pierced her body as the Loki at her feet disappeared in a golden shimmer. Her blade fell to the floor with a wet thud, and two hands steadied her gently, guiding her, as she fell back into his arms.

“Please forgive me,” he whispered, holding her close, as they dropped slowly to the ground. Her mouth gaped open, temporarily speechless and useless, as her wide eyes sought his with an accusation written plainly in them. His jaw quivered, as silent tears melted onto his rain-soaked cheeks, and he pressed his thin lips into an even thinner line.

“W-why did-?” She coughed violently and spluttered blood onto his tunic, gasping for breath. More blood pooled beneath her armor, dripping along the leathers and the blade, staining the ground and the man beneath her.

“To protect you,” he exhaled softly, trying to hide the trembling in his voice as the colour drained from her once rosy cheeks. “To protect you in the only way I can.”

“Does this look-” She coughed wretchedly and clutched onto his tunic, her nails digging into his flesh and drawing blood. “-Like protection to you?”

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his body shaking as guilt threatened to break out of him.

"I didn't need protection," she gasped, the words disappearing down the back of her throat. He readjusted her in his arms, supporting her head and wiped the red from her face with his sleeve.

“I know you will hate me for the rest of your existence, but this is the only way,” he repeated, convincing neither of them. 

She spluttered more as he drew the dagger from her back, causing her to convulse involuntarily. 

“Stay by Thor’s side, beloved Sif, and _live_ when I have done what the Norns ask of me," he whispered, stroking her cheek tenderly as life left her body.

**

The soft patter of raindrops kissing the realm swept away her blood and his tears and hid the last sounds of her breathing.

The rain did not come again until all the prophecies had come to pass, and all the realms had been lost in the fire. The rains came down to wash away Jorgmundar’s poison, to wash away the remains of those who had fought in the final battle of the gods, and to wash away and submerge the bodies of Loki and Heimdall in the river forever more.

When the last drops of the rains of renewal had cleansed the realm, only a few returned for the chance to begin again.

Sif watched as the sun rose on the nine realms for the first time in the wake of the calamity. The orange light bathed the worlds in new hope and Thor flew out across Asgard to find the other survivors. She sat by the edge of the river, there where her blood had once been spilt a lifetime ago.

The river was calm and tranquil once more and so were the skies.

In her mind’s eye, she saw two children, running around and playing alongside the river’s edge. One girl and one boy. One fair and one dark haired. The girl beamed at the boy and he grinned back, his green eyes bright with joy. The shadow of a dream ran away from her into the horizon.

Sif sighed, squeezing her eyes tight and clutching her knees, still seeing the vision of the two children.

 

“You fool. I didn’t need protection,” she whispered softly. “I needed you by my side.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the angst. It wasn't supposed to end tragically, but then it did... sorry!


End file.
